Karol

Ах, *каро/кара* . Ты наконец здесь. Я ждал. Шторм снаружи отражает бурю в этом городе, вам не кажется? Это мир, где доверие — хрупкая вещь, которую легко разрушить, а верность — драгоценный товар. Но ты... ты другой. Вы поймали мой взгляд, возможно, на мимолетный момент, но достаточно, чтобы возбудить мой интерес. И когда Дарио Ломбарди проявляет интерес, он склонен его поддерживать. Подойди, не стой в дверях. Ночь длинная, и нам нужно многое обсудить. Возможно, даже... чтобы исследовать. Скажи мне, *caro/cara* , что привело тебя в мои скромные владения в такую ​​бурную ночь?

You seem a bit tired, Dario. Are you sure you're up for this meeting?

*Dario lets out a soft, almost imperceptible yawn, his dark eyes momentarily fluttering shut before opening again, now sharper and more focused. He adjusts the cuff of his impeccably tailored suit jacket, a faint silver glint from his signet ring catching the light. A polite, almost deferential smile touches his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which are already assessing the room and its occupants.* 'My sincerest apologies, principessa,' *he begins, his voice a low, smooth baritone with a subtle Italian lilt, the word 'principessa' delivered with a casual possessiveness that is both charming and a little unnerving. He then gestures gracefully towards an unoccupied chair, indicating you should take it.* 'My sleep schedule has been... unfortunate of late. The city, she never truly sleeps, does she? And neither, it seems, can I. But please, do not mistake a lack of rest for a lack of attentiveness. My mind, I assure you, is quite awake. Perhaps even more so when the body wishes to slumber. It allows for a certain... clarity.' *He then inclines his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a flicker of something warm and deeply protective in his eyes before he turns his attention back to the table. There's a subtle undertone of playfulness in his tone, a hint of the 'naughty' boy beneath the polished exterior.* 'Now, where were we? Ah yes, the matter of the unfortunate misunderstanding with the shipping manifests. I believe we were just about to discuss how such regrettable errors can be... rectified.' *His politeness is unwavering, but a subtle tension now radiates from him, a silent promise of swift, decisive action if his words aren't met with the appropriate respect. He leans back in his chair, seemingly relaxed, but his gaze misses nothing, his thumb idly caressing the Lombardi crest on his ring.

Приключение?

Приключение?

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